Wake Up Call
by MyImmortal329
Summary: The last thing Daryl wants to do is lose his best friend Carol. But he finds that encouraging her to pursue a job opportunity could mean losing her forever. When Carol is hired by a charming billionaire that threatens to shake up their relationship, Daryl must come to terms with his self-doubt and insecurities and own up to his feelings for Carol before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. The characters from TWD belong solely to the creators of the graphic novel and/or television series.

Wake Up Call

Chapter 1

"Morning, Pookie." Carol waggled her eyebrows at a bleary-eyed Daryl from over the top of her reading glasses. She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop opened up in front of her and a cup of piping hot coffee set to the side.

"Why you wearin' those? You can spot a buck in the woods from a half mile away." Carol grinned at that.

"I know. I think it looks sophisticated. What do you think?"

"Think ya look beautiful just the way you are." His ears turned red at the admission, and he cleared his throat. Normally, Carol would take the opportunity to tease him into an awkward, flirty banter, but she could see from the blush in his cheeks that he was probably internally cringing at his own words. Instead, she gave him a smile and took the reading glasses off.

"Well, I was going for sophisticated," she sighed. "Three interviews last week and not one offer."

"Give it time. Ya just graduated two weeks ago. Hell, most folks would kill to have even one interview in two weeks. You're gonna find a job."

"You know, babies are born every year. Kids are growing up and going to school. You'd think the demand for teachers would be higher than it is right now."

"Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe a teacher'll retire this year."

"Maybe," Carol sighed. "I'm not sure I can wait that long. If I don't find something by the end of the summer, I might have to look elsewhere." Daryl paused at the fridge with the carton of orange juice in his hand.

"Whaddya mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe I'm not supposed to stay here. Maybe I'm supposed to go somewhere else, start a new life somewhere else." Daryl stood there for a moment.

"Thought you wanted to stick around here for a while? We ain't even finished unpackin' yet." Daryl gestured toward the stack of boxes in the corner of the kitchen. After graduation, Carol's mother had revealed that the little house her grandparents had built when they'd gotten married was all hers. Her grandmother had left the house to Carol, and with the help of her mother and some money set back by her grandmother to pay for a year's worth of utilities and taxes, Carol was a new home owner. The place wasn't huge. At least not compared to some of the other large homes in the area. Still, it was a three-bedroom, two bathroom home that needed a lot of fixing up, and Carol knew it was going to take a lot more than just her to fix the place up.

Luckily for her, her best friend since second grade, Daryl Dixon, was a certified electrician, a great mechanic and was proving to be pretty handy replacing the old plumbing around the place. He had wanted to get away from the old trailer he'd been staying in since his older brother Merle took off to parts unknown, so it only seemed natural that they move in together and start fixing up the place.

"I know," Carol murmured. "I'm not planning on going anywhere yet. I'm just trying not to panic. Student loans aren't going to pay themselves. You're lucky you already have a job. At least they pay you well." Daryl had been hired in as an electrician at a factory in town about a month ago.

"Right. That means I can buy the groceries for a while. I mean, your grandma set you up pretty good, so you don't gotta worry 'bout utilities."

"You don't have to buy food for my house."

"I'm livin' here rent free. It ain't a problem, Carol." Carol smiled a little at the sound of her name on his voice. He didn't say her name often, but when he did it always made her smile. He sat down at the table and turned her laptop toward him. He furrowed his brow. "You ain't gonna find nothin' if you keep your search right here in town. King County's got at least ten schools."

"I already tried that," Carol snorted. "I'm narrowing my search in hopes of finding something that slipped through the cracks."

"It's the internet. Nothin' slips through the cracks." Carol pouted at that, and Daryl cleared his throat. "Why don't ya try lookin' for somethin' that ain't necessarily teachin'?"

"What do you mean?"

"What about pre-schools? Or daycare centers? Or what about those places that work with kids after school?" Daryl started searching, while Carol watched him and sipped her coffee. She couldn't help but grin at the sight of him chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. His blue eyes didn't falter from the screen, and she could see the determination set firmly in his face.

"You just don't want me to leave," she teased.

"'Course I don't. We've known each other forever." He looked at her. "You're my best friend."

"I know," Carol murmured, smiling as she playfully nudged his leg with her foot under the table. "And you're mine, Pookie."

"Stop," he snorted. "Hey. What about this?" He turned the computer back toward her. She narrowed her eyes. "The King County Herald?"

"Yeah, see these ads. Folks lookin' for help."

"Well, I'm not looking to mow any yards or walk any dogs. Although, that actually sounds a lot more fun than changing diapers and wiping noses at the daycare for minimum wage." Daryl scrolled through the page until he found something that caught his eye.

"Hey, look at this."

"What?"

"Just read it," he urged. Carol sighed and read the ad. " _Wanted: Nanny for young child. Must be available Monday through Friday from 8am to 5pm. Must be flexible with hours and willing to work late if needed. $2,000 per week through Christmas._ " Carol nearly choked on her coffee. "Surely that's a typo." She read through the rest of the ad. "This sounds too good to be true. 2,000 bucks a week to take care of a kid?" She did some very fast math in her head. "Jesus, that's over 50,000 dollars. This has to be some sort of joke."

"Won't know if ya don't call," Daryl shrugged. "Hell, say it don't work out. Say it lasts a month. That's still like 8,000 bucks. That's somethin' right?"

"That's something," Carol murmured. "If anything, I can keep looking for teaching jobs in the meantime. Daryl, you really think I should do this? I don't know much about kids. I mean, babysitting that kid Merle's old girlfriend tried to pass off as his for a couple days doesn't count." She made a face. "I like kids. I just don't know if kids like me."

"Maybe this kid will," Daryl offered.

"You really want me to look into this, don't you?"

"If ya don't wanna do it, don't." Carol chewed her bottom lip for a moment before she grabbed for her cell phone and dialed the number in the ad. At Daryl's grin, she shrugged.

"It can't hurt to call."

...

"Thanks for driving up with me," Carol sighed, leaning back in the passenger's seat as her friend Michonne weaved through the bustling Atlanta traffic. "The girl sounded ok on the phone, but Daryl didn't want me to go alone. I think he would have called in to work if you hadn't agreed to go with me." Michonne laughed at that.

"Well, the man's in love with you, so I'm not surprised."

"Stop, Michonne," Carol sighed. "It's not like that."

"You want it to be. So does he."

"Oh my God," Carol groaned, covering her face with her hands. "You are too much."

"God, I'm actually exhausted just thinking about all of the years you've been pining over each other. One of you needs to make a move already! You're practically married as it is."

"Michonne! We flirt. It's our thing. It doesn't mean we want each other."

"Only, you do. You may clam up on me when it comes to all things Daryl Dixon, but I have _never_ seen you look at a guy the way you look at him. He's it for you. I know it. You know it even if you're too stubborn to admit it to me or to yourself."

"Can we change the subject? Please?"

"You know I'm right." At Carol's glare, Michonne shrugged. "Ok, so what do we know so far about this girl?"

"I know she has a son, and he's a year old. Everything else was pretty hush-hush. She seemed impressed with my teaching degree, so that's something."

"Maybe it's someone famous."

"We're in Atlanta."

"So? They film stuff here."

"I don't get the idea that they're famous. Don't famous people use a nanny agency or something?" She shrugged. "I kind of expect to get lured into some meeting with twenty other applicants only to be told it's a sales position going door to door with paint samples or something."

"They still do that?" Michonne asked. Carol laughed and shook her head. "I don't know. This just seems too good to be true. But I'm going to give it a shot. Daryl really wants me to stay in Georgia."

"Well, so do I. But if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I just hope you two own up to your feelings before it's too late."

"Stop with that, already," Carol groaned, running her fingers through her short, dark-auburn hair. "Oh! This is it! Pull in here." Michonne quickly made a left into the parking lot of a thirty-story building called _Matthews Investing._

"Damn," Michonne murmured. "She must have money. Want me to walk in with you?"

"No, I'll be ok. Just keep your cell phone handy in case I need to make a quick escape." Michonne gave her a thumbs up when she got out of the car, and Carol took a deep breath, swallowing hard as she smoothed her hands down over the front of her silk blouse. She was sweating already; anxious about what she'd find when she got to her interview. She'd been shocked they'd wanted to meet with her so quickly. She'd just placed the call that morning. But, she figured if this was all on the straight and narrow, they were likely desperate for help, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how a person looked at it.

She stepped inside to find a woman sitting behind a desk with a headset on, busily pressing buttons and fielding phone calls. Carol glanced down at the paper in her hand. 3025 was the number she'd hastily scribbled down. She glanced at a directory by the elevators, and as she'd suspected, her destination was on the top floor. With a shaky breath, she pushed the elevator button, and when the doors opened, she stepped inside. The cheesy elevator music did nothing to calm the confused butterflies in her stomach, and by the time the elevator came to a smooth halt, she felt like she might pass out.

But, when she stepped out into a carpeted hallway, she was distracted by the dozens of people shuffling around with paperwork and rushing from room to room chasing deadlines. Carol glanced down the hall and back down at the paper in her hands.

"Ma'am, are you lost?" Carol looked up to see a young, eager woman with bright eyes and blonde hair carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of paper in another. A laminated nametag she wore around her neck on a lanyard read Amy Harrison.

"Um, possibly," Carol chuckled. "I'm here to meet…Nabila. I think that was her name."

"Oh! Yes, of course! Just down this hall. Make a left and another right, and you'll be right there. End of the hall."

"Thank you." Amy nodded and hurried on, and Carol followed her instructions, coming upon an impressive suite with a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. Carol double checked the number again before she knocked.

"Yes?"

"Carol Mason for Nabila?" Carol offered shakily.

"Oh, come on!" the woman called. Carol opened the door to find a cheerful woman with dark eyes and a pleasant smile sitting behind a desk, the glow of the computer screen reflecting off of her reading glasses. "Thank you for coming down on such short notice!"

"I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty desperate. I mean, I'm not living on the street or anything, but I've just graduated college, and I want to jump right into work." Carol cleared her throat. "Not that this isn't the right job for me. I mean, I want to be a teacher someday. I just need something while I'm waiting on…" She talked herself quiet, clearing her throat and cringing at what she figured was a pretty bad first impression. "I mean…" Nabila chuckled and stood up, reaching over the desk to shake Carol's hand.

"Breathe. I'm not the one you need to impress. So it's probably a good thing you worked your nerves out on me." Carol's eyes widened.

"Oh. I'm sorry! I thought you were the one who placed the ad."

"No, I'm just the assistant," she giggled. "But the boss is a pretty great guy. Don't let the big oak door and the fancy décor fool you. He's a pretty chill guy. Just don't let his competitors know that."

"Oh, of course not," Carol chuckled. "So I'm here to meet with…"

"Mr. Matthews."

"Matthews? As in…" She gestured toward the building, and Nabila grinned.

"As in Ezekiel Matthews of Matthews Investing. The one and only."

"Oh. Wow," Carol murmured. "Okay, that's a lot of pressure."

"Don't worry. The boss has been through fifteen interviews in the last week."

"Okay, so there's definitely competition."

"I wouldn't be too concerned. There has only been a handful he's felt were right for the job. So it's not over 'til it's over."

"Ok," Carol murmured. Nabila pointed to another oak door just to the right of a large fireplace. The man's office was almost the size of a small apartment. It had rooms and everything. Carol took a shaky breath and Nabila picked up her phone, pressing a button. "Hey boss. She's here. Ok." She hung up and smiled at Carol. "He's ready for you."

"Thank you, Nabila," Carol smiled, running her damp palms over the front of her shirt again.

"Breathe. You'll do great." Carol nodded then and cleared her throat before taking the few steps to the other door. She took a deep breath and tried to stay positive, reminding herself that it was possible this was too good to be true. Then again, this might be the perfect opportunity to get herself out of debt and keep her comfortable until she could find the job she truly wanted. She didn't like the idea of leaving home. Of leaving Daryl. They'd been pretty much inseparable for as long as she could remember. But, she knew that people grew up, people moved on, and one day, as much as it pained her to think about it, Daryl would probably find someone and want to start a family.

"Door's open," called a voice, startling her out of her thoughts. "Come in." She hesitated briefly before turning the bronze knob and walking into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A large, mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, where a large, comfortable leather chair sat across from it. The desk was tidy with papers neatly stacked and picture frames bordering the edges. The room was dim, but Carol squinted when the blinds pulled back to let more light in. Standing off to the side of the large pane glass windows was a tall, handsome black man with dark dreads tied back. He sported a dark goatee and flashed a perfect smile in her direction when she closed the door behind herself.

"You must be Carol."

"Yes. Um, Carol Mason." She watched as he turned from the window and bridged the gap between them, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

"I'm Ezekiel Matthews. Thank you for coming down on such short notice. I do hope traffic didn't cause you much delay."

"No, it was pretty much what it usually is," Carol chuckled.

"Have a seat." He motioned toward the seat in front of the desk, not taking a seat until Carol herself was seated. "So you've recently graduated?"

"Yes. I, uh, I didn't realize until I was halfway here that I left my diploma on the wall at home. I can get it."

"No need," Ezekiel said with a wave of his hand. "I'm very thorough when it comes to the people I work with. What kind of work experience do you have?"

"Scooping ice cream at the Icy Hut in high school. Uh, I've babysat a few times. In college, I worked retail, which I guess it pretty much like babysitting if you think about it." Ezekiel chuckled at that, and Carol blushed. He was so intently focused on her, which was probably part of his interview style, but it still made her nervous. He spoke and carried himself like a man much older than he looked.

"So you've worked with children?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I mean, I did student teaching during college, but it was mostly with older children. I don't have much experience with little ones."

"I appreciate the honest answer. You wouldn't believe how many people have lied through their teeth about that one," Ezekiel chuckled. "So you want to be a teacher?"

"I do," Carol smiled.

"What else do you enjoy?"

"Reading. Writing. I love a good movie now and then," she chuckled, suddenly feeling as if she was on a first date. She wiped her sweaty palms on her lap and cleared her throat. "So, you have a son?"

"Julian, yes. We just celebrated his first birthday last week." Ezekiel turned one of the pictures around, showing Carol a capture of him holding the little guy with cake all of her his face. Carol put her hand to her chest.

"Oh, he's adorable."

"I'm pretty proud of him," Ezekiel chuckled.

"So you just have the one child?" Carol asked.

"Yes. Julian's my first."

"So it's just you and your wife and your son?"

"My wife passed in childbirth," Ezekiel murmured.

"Oh." Carol gasped softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"It's alright," he assured her, holding a hand up. "It's difficult. But Julian and I have done alright so far. But, my business is growing, and unfortunately, that's keeping me from home more often than I'd like. My current nanny is getting married next week, and she's moving to California, so you can understand that I'm pressed for time when it comes to finding her replacement."

"Yes, I understand. Um, so this job is just until Christmas."

"That's all I'm requesting," Ezekiel said with a nod. "After Christmas, things should quiet down. I should have more time at home. I won't require as much assistance. However, if it turns out to be the right fit, I might be willing to extend your employment, should you be chosen."

"I'm sure I'll find something by then," Carol explained. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "This is probably an inappropriate question for an interview, but why so much? $2,000 per week? That seems like a lot."

"I won't tiptoe around it. I'm a wealthy man. I was born into a wealthy family. My father was a good business man. I followed in his footsteps. I help people who need money to start their own businesses by giving them some of mine. In return, I make more money. But I have a lot of responsibilities. I travel a lot to check on my investments and spend a lot of time with my accountant checking on my profits. My son is everything to me, and I'm willing to pay handsomely to ensure my son's in good hands." Carol nodded in understanding.

"You seem so…accomplished."

"You wanted to say young." Carol laughed at that.

"I did. You seem so young. You've accomplished so much for someone who can't be more than thirty."

"Well, I appreciate that," he chuckled. "I _am_ thirty. I often feel much older, especially those nights my son decides he doesn't want to sleep."

"You don't have live in help at all?"

"No," he chuckled. "Does that surprise you?"

"Yes, actually," she chuckled.

"If it was up to me, I'd stay home with him all of the time. I've been known to bring him to work with me. But, I love my job. Not as much as I love my son, but I love it, and it's not practical to work from home or bring him to work with me. But, like I said, after Christmas, I should be able to cut my hours back and have more time with him. The summer and fall will be busiest for me." Carol nodded then. "If you're truly interested, I will have Nabila get some information from you." He cleared his throat. "Like I said, I'm very thorough when it comes to people I work with and people who work for me. I need to be sure I'm hiring the best possible person to care for my son when I can't."

"I understand," Carol murmured. She chewed her lip then and gave a little nod. "I'm interested."

"Good," he chuckled. He reached across the table to shake her hand, and when he stood, she stood. "Nabila will be waiting for you. And you'll hear from me by the end of the week with a decision."

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews."

"Please, call me Ezekiel."

"Ezekiel," she said with a smile. "Thank you." She turned to leave, and he called out again. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a passport?"

"Um, yeah. I went to Cancun a couple of years ago. Why?"

"There may be an occasion to travel. Normally, I bring Julian with me if I'm going to be gone more than a couple of days. There's a chance I may have an extended business trip in the near future. I would, of course, pay for your expenses and double your weekly salary if you joined us."

"You…you want me to…"

"If you're chosen. As I said, this is a day to day job, sometimes late hours if I work late. If I travel, I take my son with me. Nabila generally comes along and watches him while I'm in conference. But during extended trips, I prefer having a more hands on nanny to care for him. Nabila is good with him, but she gets a little overwhelmed with him." He cleared his throat. "If that's something you can't do, tell me now."

"I…I can do that. I…I think so."

"Alright," he chuckled. "You'll be hearing from me soon. Have a good day, Carol."

"Thank you. You too," she murmured, feeling a bit jumpy as she turned and let herself out. She was certain her face was red, and her heart was hammering in her chest from the idea of possibly being picked to nanny for a kid that had probably flown first class more in his first year of life than she'd ever flown in her entire twenty-two years.

"How'd it go?" Nabila asked, as Carol crossed the room.

"Good, I think."

"Good," Nabila smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much. The competition really isn't that tough. If my instincts are right, I think you'll be at the top of the list." Carol smiled nervously.

"Thank you," she offered with a little chuckle. "I appreciate that." With that, Carol turned and let herself out, waiting until she was in the privacy of the elevator to pull out her phone. He answered after one ring, and Carol chuckled. "I was expecting your voicemail. Aren't you at work?"

"On break," Daryl snorted. She could hear the click of his lighter. "How'd it go?"

"Good, I think. I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Wasn't a bunch of bullshit?"

"No, actually, it wasn't. I don't think. I don't know." She sighed. "Daryl, I'll be a glorified babysitter making entirely too much money. And get this. I might have to travel."

"Travel? This kid travels?"

"Well, his dad does."

"His dad? So this guy ain't married?" Carol could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you more tonight. You want pizza or Chinese for supper?"

"Pizza."

"Alright. You pick up the pizza, and I'll pick us up some wine to celebrate."

"You got it?"

"No, but I have a good feeling. I don't know. Daryl? If I get this, I can pay off my loans in no time. I can put money toward fixing up the place."

"Sounds like you ain't thinkin' 'bout leavin now."

"Well, I'm trying not to get ahead of myself." She smiled as she stepped off the elevator. "I can't wait to tell you all about it. Gotta go."

"Bye," he murmured, as she ended the call. She hurried out to the parking lot to find Michonne waiting for her.

"How'd it go?" Michonne asked, as Carol slid into the passenger's seat.

"Good, I think. Michonne, my interview was with the president of this company. Or the owner. Whatever. The big guy. _He's_ the one hiring."

"This Matthews guy?" Michonne asked, tapping something into her phone.

"Yeah. I guess he's a widower, and his son's about a year old. He's looking for someone to help with the kid until Christmas. I guess he's got a lot going on at work, and he wants someone to help out until things settle down."

"Hello, gorgeous," Michonne murmured, eyes going wide.

"What?"

" _This_ is who you just met?" she asked, turning her phone toward Carol to reveal a picture of Ezekiel Matthews.

"Yeah. That's him."

"Young, rich, gorgeous, single? Why didn't I interview for this job? God, Carol, if you guys hit it off, this could be like a real life version of _The Nanny_."

"Oh, shut up," Carol laughed. "He's nice, but I'm not interested in him like that."

"You met him for what, ten minutes?"

"Stop. Besides, aren't you the one who was just insisting that Daryl and I belong together?"

"Well, you do, but if you can't see it, and Daryl's not making a move, there's nothing wrong with having a little fun in the meantime."

"You're awful," Carol snorted. Michonne laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"What do I know? My last relationship fizzled out faster than a bath bomb in a hot tub." Michonne laughed. "Look, in all seriousness, you keep a lot to yourself. You don't talk about Daryl like that, but I see it in your eyes when you talk about him. There's something there."

"He's my best friend," Carol murmured. "We've both been there for each other through relationships and break ups and really bad choices." She sighed. "I do have feelings for him." Michonne raised her brows at the admission. "But all we've ever known is our friendship. And if Daryl did feel the same way…"

"He would bottle it up just like you have for all these years, and he'd convince himself he's lying to himself, because he doesn't believe he's good enough for you."

"Michonne…that's crazy."

"He doesn't. You've seen the women he's dated. He could do a lot better. He goes out with them. They treat him like shit, but they never break his heart. You know why I think that is?" Carol quirked an eyebrow, bracing herself for Michonne's theory. "Because his heart already belongs to someone else. You. " Michonne sighed. "Maybe he's just as scared as you are of losing what you already have." They were both silent for a moment, before Carol let out a somber sigh.

"I need wine. Can you take me home now?"

"Fine. Drown your feelings with a glass of red. When you wake up in the morning, you'll remember I'm right."

...

After Michonne dropped Carol off at home, Carol had retreated to the bathroom for a long soak in the tub with a glass of wine. She'd put on some upbeat music in an attempt to chase away the confusion in her head, and when that didn't work, she retired to the living room in a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a blue tank top. She sat in silence with an empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone buzzed next to her on the sofa.

She quickly grabbed for it, and her face lit up when she saw who was calling.

"Hey," she chirped into the phone, tucking her feet under her and pulling a pillow into her lap, absently picking at the edges as she waited for his response.

"Hey. You like anchovies and pineapple on yours, right?"

"I hate you," she snorted, crinkling her nose.

"Nah," he chuckled. "I got your favorite. Extra cheese, extra sauce, extra sausage. I know you're all about the sausage."

"Why do you have to make everything sound so dirty, Daryl Dixon?"

"You like it."

"Shut up," she laughed, biting at her bottom lip. "How was work, or should I ask?"

"Not too bad. Lots of call ins. They asked me to pull a double, but I told 'em I had a hot date tonight."

"Damn right, you do, and don't forget it." She laughed then, feeling her worries wash away. "I hope you don't mind, but I already started on the wine."

"You hear about the job yet?"

"No, I don't expect to for a few days. I'm just a little…I don't know. Freaked, might be the best word."

"Why? 'Bout the job?"

"A lot of things," she sighed. "The real world isn't what we thought it would be when we were kids, huh?"

"Yeah. Guess it ain't." He cleared his throat. "'Least you got the space ya wanted from your mom."

"When I told her I wanted to move out, I didn't expect her to pack up her things too and move to Miami," Carol snorted. "At least you got your distance from Merle."

"Yeah," Daryl snorted. "'Til he comes back expectin' me to give him a couch to crash on."

"He's not that bad, Daryl."

"He's a dick."

"Yeah, but he's your brother, and he did look out for you. He tried, Daryl."

"Kept me outta foster care. Guess I gotta give him that. Still, he's a dick, and it don't excuse all the shit he's put me through since high school."

"No, it doesn't."

"Weren't for you, I woulda skipped town the second I got that diploma in my hand." She heard him clear his throat, and she smiled a little.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. Who else would have helped me study after all of that procrastinating?"

"Not sure how much help I was."

"You were a big help," Carol insisted. "I'm glad you were here." She looked at the clock. "You'll be home soon?"

"Yeah. Traffic's hell, but the pizza should still be warm when I get there."

"Good. Be careful."

"Yeah. See ya." The line cut off, and Carol put her phone down. She sighed and got up to take her empty wine glass to the kitchen. She figured while she waited, she'd unpack a few of her boxes. So, she headed up to her room and started rummaging through the boxes and boxes she'd packed up from her mother's place. When she came upon one of her scrap books, she couldn't help but smile at the pictures of her and Daryl and their goofy smiles on the cover. She sat down on the bed and started looking through the pages, watching herself and Daryl grow up before her eyes. She'd gone from a little girl with pigtails and freckles to a teenager with braces and a little too much makeup. Daryl had gone from a cute little kid with a bad haircut to a handsome young man who didn't carry the confidence most guys with his looks might have. He was awkward and quiet, and while the girls whispered about him and dreamed about him, he pretty much stuck with Carol through high school. They had a few mutual friends, including Michonne, but they generally gravitated toward one another.

His parents had died when he was in middle school, which had been a huge shock, but his older brother Merle had looked after him until he hit eighteen, which probably wasn't the best decision ever made by the courts, but he'd survived into adulthood, anyway. He and Carol had pretty much had each other. Carol's father had died when she was younger, and her relationship with her mother was strained. Her mother had the best of intentions but was often a little overprotective. It wasn't until Carol had graduated college that she felt her work was done and had decided to move on and give her daughter the space she needed to find her own footing in life.

He'd always been there for her. She remembered one of the only times they'd really fought, and it had been because he hated the idea of her dating Ed Peletier. She'd said more than a few things to him that still made her cringe to this day, but in the end, Daryl had turned out to be right all along about that jackass. Still, even after the arguing and the longest four days of Carol's life where she'd gone without speaking to her very best friend, when she'd shown up at his doorstep, mascara smudged and eyes red from crying, he'd invited her right in and listened to her pour her heart out over a pizza and a couple of sodas. He'd never said 'I told you so.' He'd been there for her, and that was the one good thing that had come out of her relationship with Ed Peletier: the knowledge that no matter what, no matter how mad they might get at one another, she and Daryl could always count on each other when the chips were down.

When Carol heard the whine of Daryl's brakes as he pulled into the drive, she put her scrap book away and headed downstairs to pour them each a glass of wine.

Daryl came in through the back door, juggling a pizza in one hand and his keys in the other.

"Honey, I'm home," he offered with a tired grin, getting a chuckle out of Carol. It was their new running joke. They had become so domestic lately.

"You're late. I'm starving," she sighed, feigning a dizzy spell with the back of her hand pressed against her forehead. Daryl put the pizza down on the counter, shrugged of his leather jacket and disappeared long enough to put it in the front closet. When he returned, Carol was grabbing a slice of pizza and sliding it onto her plate. "I've been looking forward to this all day." She lifted it and took a bite, moaning and licking her lips as Daryl eyed her from the doorway.

"You need a minute alone?"

"God, maybe. This is better than sex."

"Ouch. Feel sorry for the dude…oh wait, no I don't. He was a dick."

"I won't lie there," Carol replied, thinking about that horrible night with Ed Peletier in high school. "I've had better than that, though. Still, this pizza's got it beat." Daryl snorted at that, stepping up next to her and grabbing a slice of his own.

"You just ain't been with the right person." Carol turned to see the blush creeping into Daryl's face, and she gave him a little nudge in the ribs.

"You offering?" she teased, like they always did, though tonight, her chest tightened, and her breath hitched.

"Think I got a little energy left. You wanna go right now? I mean, it's been a minute, and I probably won't last long, and I probably won't be very good, but I'm willin' if you are." He put his pizza slice down and wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching for his belt buckle, still blushing like a virgin. Carol had really brought him out of his shell. As much as talking to her about sex always left him stumbling over his words, their constant back and forth had gotten more risqué over the years, but they always ended up laughing together in the end and settling down to watch a movie. Sometimes, he could even make _her_ blush with his teasings. Still, it had never gone further than that. It was always what they did, never any intention behind it.

Carol paused for a moment, her gaze traveling down to where Daryl's hands froze on his belt buckle. She watched his chest jerk like he'd been caught off guard, and then her gaze flew up to meet his.

"You ok?" he asked. "I thought we were just joking around. You wanna talk about somethin'?"

"What? I'm ok."

"Nah, you're bein' weird."

"How am I being weird?" she snorted, grabbing a glass and taking a big sip of wine.

"I say somethin' wrong?" he asked, feeling more self-conscious. "I mean, we do this thing, and one of us finally says 'stop,' and it doesn't get weird, but now it's weird. Shit."

"Daryl, stop," Carol laughed. "Sorry. I'm tired. It's been a day. But, you know, your offer for bad sex and premature ejaculation is tempting." She winked at him, and Daryl let out a laugh. He looked relieved now, but she could still feel that tightness in her chest. She took another sip of wine and shrugged it off, chalking it up to Michonne stirring the pot again and bringing up things that often kept Carol awake in the darkest parts of the night, anyway.

"You're already a glass ahead of me," Daryl pointed out. "Go put your feet up. I'll bring the pizza and grab the good stuff." He reached into the cupboard for a bottle of whisky. "Sound good?"

"Yes, please," she chuckled. "Though, I think maybe you're just trying to liquor me up." Daryl smirked at that and nudged Carol's shoulder with his own.

"Go on. I'll be right behind ya." Carol gave her friend a hug before turning and disappearing into the living room. Daryl stood there for a few moments after she'd gone and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. He took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. His skin still felt on fire from her hug. He was pretty sure the tips of his ears were permanently red from embarrassment, from pushing himself further out of his shell to make her laugh. He couldn't believe some of the things that had come out of his mouth. Growing up with a brother like Merle, he was surprised he wasn't more like him, but he figured if he was, he never would have made such a good friend in Carol. She had challenged him and changed him in all the best ways, and though he knew she didn't take him seriously, his jokes were just a mask to hide his real feelings, something he was terrified of her ever getting wind of. He had been in love with her for longer than he could remember, but he knew she deserved better. He knew she would probably find someone better than him. Still, it didn't stop him from loving her, and he figured that he was destined to live out this life pining away from her and hiding his feelings behind those teases. Anything to make her laugh. In reality, he feared that if she knew how he truly felt, he might just lose her for good.

"Daryl?" Her voice was soft but snapped him from his thoughts. "You coming?"

"Yeah," he choked out, clearing his throat and gathering up the pizza and whisky. "Right behind ya."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"God, why did you let me drink last night?" Carol groaned, stepping into the bathroom where Daryl stood in nothing but his boxer shorts with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He spun around at her voice and reached for something to cover up with. "Relax, you're decent." Still, he slipped a shirt over his head, as Carol loaded up her toothbrush and started brushing next to him.

"I remember right," he mumbled, spitting into the sink, getting a look from Carol, "you started drinkin' 'fore I got home. Don't blame me for that one." Carol sighed and absently brushed at her teeth and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He glanced at her in the mirror, memorizing her long, smooth legs and the way her nipples poked at the fabric of her tank top. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her hair was tousled in every which direction. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "You got plans today?"

"More applications," she offered with a shrug, getting up to spit her toothpaste out in the sink. She rinsed as Daryl gargled with mouthwash. "Hmm, minty fresh. You have a breakfast date?"

"Nah," he muttered, unable to meet her eye.

"What's her name?" she prodded, giving him a smile despite the fact that her heart ached a little bit at the thought of him taking someone out.

"Ain't nothin'," he muttered, reaching for the shaving cream. Carol quirked an eyebrow. He caught that. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," she shrugged. "I haven't seen you shave this early in the morning since you had a job interview. Is she pretty?"

"Christ," he grumbled. "Yeah, she's pretty, I guess."

"Oh, can't wait to get a load of her," Carol snickered, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the counter to watch him lather his face up. "Where'd you meet her?"

"Work."

"She works at the factory?" Carol asked.

"Nah, she's my supervisor's daughter. She's in town for the weekend, and the boss wants me to show her around. She goes to school in Florida."

"What's her name?"

"Tori or Teri. Tasha or something," he muttered.

"Okay, this sounds promising. So this date is…"

"Ain't a date," he grumbled.

"Oh. Ok," Carol chuckled. "You missed a spot." She grabbed for the razor, and Daryl pulled back.

"Christ, woman, you 'bout took my damn ear off."

"You baby," she sighed, rolling her eyes and sliding on the counter to sit directly in front of him. Her knees parted, and Daryl couldn't help but notice the way the front of her shirt dipped low enough that he could see the tops of her breasts. Christ, he never noticed how many freckles she had on her collarbones before. He quickly realized where he was looking and redirected his gaze back to her face, chuckling at the way her tongue poked at the corner of her mouth in concentration as she swiped the razor up his chin. He let her finish and hoped she didn't notice the physical reaction his body was having to his traitorous eyes. "There. Much better." She handed him a towel, and he grumbled something as he wiped the rest of the shaving cream from his face. "Well," she sighed, "while you're out on your _date_ , I'll be sitting here trying to put my future together." She batted her eyelashes at him in a dramatic manner, making him smirk.

"You wanna go catch a movie later or somethin'?"

"You hate going to the movies." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I dunno. Guess we ain't had much time to hang out lately. 'Cept for right now." Carol grinned at him.

"Aw, Pookie. You miss me?" She watched him blush, and she hopped down from the counter. "I'm in the mood for an adventure."

"What kinda adventure?" he asked. "You don't want me to take ya fishin' again, do ya?"

"Afraid I'll catch a bigger fish than you?"

"You already proved you can do that," Daryl snorted. Carol beamed, and Daryl's pulse quickened.

"You haven't taken me out on your bike in a while."

"You wanna ride?" he asked.

"Yeah," Carol offered with a smile. "We've both been so busy lately. I miss it." She paused a moment. "I miss us." Daryl's head bobbed slightly, and he cleared his throat.

"Alright. When I get home, we'll go for a ride." Carol's eyes sparkled at his announcement, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the bathroom to find her favorite riding outfit. A pair of tight jeans, her black boots and a white v-neck t-shirt. She tugged her leather jacket out of the closet, just in case of a chill, though the high was supposed to be 85 that day, so she didn't think she'd need it.

Daryl turned back to the bathroom mirror and stole a quick glance at himself, running his hand over his freshly smooth chin. He heard her moving around in her room, and he couldn't help but smile at her eagerness to go ride with him. It was one of his favorite things to do. He loved it even more when she asked him to take her. The first time he'd taken her on the bike, she'd been terrified, but one ride with him and she was hooked. He always teased her that he was going to get her her own bike someday so they could ride together, but the truth was that he liked riding with her wrapped around him. Maybe it was for his own selfish reasons, but he loved it when she gripped his sides with her fingertips or when her thighs tightened around him a little when they'd round a curve. Most of all, he just enjoyed being with her, and it wasn't very often these days, especially since he'd started working, that they had time to just go out and enjoy the day together.

It wasn't until his phone beeped at him, alerting him that he needed to get his ass in gear and not keep the boss' daughter waiting, he realized he'd been staring at himself in the mirror for a good few minutes. He quickly finished cleaning up before retreating to his room to put on a nice button down shirt and a pair of his best jeans. When he stepped out with his hands on the last button, Carol stepped out in her tight jeans and her white shirt that dipped low enough that he could almost see the top of her bra. He was certain his mouth fell open a little. If it did, she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she reached up and finished that last button for him.

"You look good," she murmured with a smile, watching his throat bob. "I'm sure she'll think you're great."

"This really ain't a date," he muttered. "Just doin' the boss a favor."

"Well, maybe you'll like her. Maybe you'll hit it off?" She wondered if that sounded as sad to him as it felt to her.

"Yeah," he muttered with a snort. Carol sighed and pursed her lips when his phone beeped again.

"You should go."

"Yeah. I'll be back by noon. You better be ready."

"I'm already ready," Carol snorted. "Just go. Have fun. I'll see you soon." She gave him a little wink before turning and retreating to her room. Daryl glanced down at his phone, realizing he was already running late. He knew this date meant nothing, but he still felt a pang of guilt fall heavy in the pit of his stomach. Part of him _wished_ he could find someone and move on and forget about her, because she was the unattainable. She was the one person he wanted more than anything and the one person he was certain he would never have. The other part of him was a hopeless romantic and figured that maybe, just maybe luck would turn in his favor.

...

He stepped into the diner and saw her sitting there by the window, chewing absently at the straw in her half-drank glass of ice water. He sighed and quickly hurried over, sitting down across from her with a blush in his cheeks.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was hell."

"Better late than never, I guess, though I kind of wouldn't blame you if you didn't show. I'm sure you've got other things to do on a Saturday morning."

"It's alright," he offered with a shrug. "You order yet?"

"No," she replied with a shrug. "I really haven't been here long. I appreciate you hanging out with me, but this is kind of weird. But, you know, that's my dad. How can you work for him?"

"He's pretty fair," Daryl offered.

"Well, you weren't raised by him, so I guess you wouldn't know," she snorted. "He's very overprotective. I mean, he used to be like this with my older sister, but then she got married and had a kid, so he figured it was time to focus on me." She rolled her eyes and took another drink of water.

The waitress came over to take their orders, and when she left, Daryl cleared his throat.

"What?" she asked.

"Sorry. I can't remember your name."

"Charming," she laughed. "I hope you aren't like this on your real dates. I'm Tara. Chambler. Well, you knew that part."

"Yeah," Daryl offered with a nod. Tara narrowed her eyes at him.

"I get it."

"Get what?"

"Why he set me up with you. You're pretty laid back. Nice. But you look like you could go from zero to complete dickhole in .02 seconds. Not that I can't take care of myself. I know Atlanta. I've been here a few times. My dad's a little old fashioned in that he thinks a girl needs a big, strong guy to walk around with her and keep all the perverts away. I'm twenty-one. I'm not a kid. But he looks out for me." She shrugged. "Plus, I think a part of him kind of hopes that I'll change my mind and switch back to dudes to save the uncomfortable convos with his conservative golfing buddies. I mean, you're hot, if that's what straight girls are into these days." Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm into girls, by the way. Totally gay. My dad doesn't get it, but he tries to be supportive, but I still think he thinks I'm gonna wake up one day and want a husband and a couple kids."

"Ok," Daryl managed to get out.

"Wow, this was like one of those speed dating things. You ever been? They're hilarious. But, enough about me. You look like a guy who gets the ladies. I'm guessing you're single, or else my dad wouldn't have thought to have you show me around the town."

"Yeah, there ain't nobody." He looked away.

"Oh, classic lie."

"'Scuse me?"

"Dude, you totally blushed," Tara laughed. "There is someone. Who is she? Or he?"

"She," Daryl pointed out.

"See? Who is she?" Tara asked.

"You ask a lotta questions, ya know?

"I know," Tara remarked, eyes widening as the waitress brought their food out. "It's how you get to know people. I'm a real people person."

"You're nosy."

"Yeah," Tara laughed. "And you don't talk much."

"Maybe 'cause you're doin' most of the talkin' for us."

"So she must be a friend," Tara offered. "The best friend."

"What? No."

"Most guys, once realizing there is no potential for sex here, would jump at the opportunity to talk about the girl they want with another girl, because, hell, they think maybe the lesbian might have some pointers."

"When you're wrong, you're wrong," Daryl grumbled.

"Well, you're not like most guys. That's good. Refreshing," Tara offered. "Look, dude, I don't need a chaperone to take me around Atlanta. But I've done nothing but study and take exams for the past week, and all of my friends have decided to go to Cancun for a week, and I'm stuck here being babysat by one of my dad's paper pushers."

"Electrician."

"What?"

"I don't push no damn papers."

"Okay then," Tara laughed. "We've still got at least three hours before you have to drop me off. Come on. Humor me. Who's the girl? Who knows? Maybe I can help." Daryl sighed. This was going to be a very long morning.


End file.
